


I No Longer Wanna Hurt

by itsOzzie



Category: The Prom - Sklar/Beguelin/Martin
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Sorry, Knives, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24146485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsOzzie/pseuds/itsOzzie
Summary: Emma Nolan is terrified of losing control. But it never belonged to her, as much as she denied that fact.
Relationships: Alyssa Greene/Emma Nolan
Comments: 1
Kudos: 36





	I No Longer Wanna Hurt

**Author's Note:**

> TWS FOR KNIVES, BLOOD, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS AND SELF HARM  
> I'm sorry in advance.

It was a nasty habit Emma started when she was thirteen; when she realized she was gay. As far as she knew, gay people were horrible people, and she wasn't horrible. She was just out of control on the matter. 

The way she saw it, though? It was all her fault--everything bad that she did. And she wanted so badly to control it, give herself some pain as a consequence. It was only her grandpa's knife. It gave her some connection to him, at least. His sturdy metal almost feeling like his arms, except it was cold and dead, especially against her breaking skin and hot, pulsating blood. It hurt like hell with every tally of her errors, but it felt good because she was in control. If it hurt too bad, she'd clean the knife and put it away in her safe she kept under the bed. She was in control.

Right?

Then she got kicked out. Suddenly the days didn't amount to anything but loneliness, fear, and a strange kind of sadness that wasn't even sad. It was empty. Everything she once had disappeared in ten minutes. Everything she once had loved was gone, too. Nothing had joy, everything was meaningless. And she was meaningless to everything around her, in the blink of an eye a plaything for her homophobic town; an object to be tossed around by people who had been friends. It hurt harder than the cuts, she realized. And she just wanted to feel something--to get away from her hollowed insides. She didn't realize as she lost track of the marks how she was losing control that she thought it provided.

Alyssa made it better--she always did. Emma couldn't lose her. She made the world have light. And Emma couldn't lose that. If she was too open, she'd scare the only good thing in life away. So she might've thought she was getting better, but she was only confiding in the knife for what she needed to share the most. Just how scared she was. Just how dismal the caves of her subconscious were because the self-worth batteries in the flashlight were long dead, replaced by a shadow of self-doubt.

So obviously, "prom" brought her back to square one, her stupid dress showing off her scars because she didn't expect to be wearing something sleeveless.

_Barry had been staring at her shoulder for too long. "What's that?" He gestured to a thin pink line on her skin._

_Emma tried to not pale at the shame that overtook her for still relying on this kind of coping mechanism because she couldn't trust anyone to not disappear on her. That wasn't something she'd worry about tonight. Tomorrow, maybe. "Uh...that was just Gran's cat."_

But then it went wrong, and Alyssa was gone. And it was all gone again. Angie tried; bless her heart, but it made Emma realize she had to do this alone--she had to take back control. She might've done that in the way she intended, but not in the way that mattered. So when her song went viral and her prom welcomed total strangers, she couldn't help but feel like a fake. Why did she deserve this?

That question plagued her as she got to New York, but she swore to herself that things would get better when surrounded by pride flags. Only they didn't, and she was still blaming herself for every trickle of blood down her arms. She got snappy at Alyssa, insisting she had to change in the bathroom and that she couldn't see her naked. She got moodier as she quickly became overwhelmed by college academics and social life. She couldn't slow down and catch her breath because the city moved too quickly. She began to wonder how Alyssa was so patient. She began to wonder why Alyssa still loved her. But she couldn't toe the line any further. She couldn't begin to burden her with the fact that her toxic relationship with a blade was growing so much worse.

Overcome with this self-hatred one night, enveloped in darkness, Emma decided she needed to do something. She got up from the bed and turned on the TV; a much better distraction than hurting herself, she mentally assured. Reruns of The Office began to play and however much she wanted it to, the television screen couldn't distract her. She was an adult, and she knew better than to unlock that stupid safe that she hid from Alyssa, but she did it anyway. Retreating to the bathroom without even turning off the TV, she had to admit the familiar faults of the knife were a comfort.

She had a fucking problem. She was so fucked up and she took it out on the single person who deserved it. Herself. For the second time that week, she lost track of her cuts.

Alyssa didn't know why she woke up at first. But something inside her told her she couldn't go back to sleep until her waking up was given an explanation. After a while of failed attempts at suppressing this intuition, she finally got up begrudgingly. She wandered into the hallway and passed the bathroom that, to her, was simply a reminder of Emma's strange need for privacy. She was okay with that. Any boundaries set in a relationship should be respected, no matter how odd. That was a rule that was especially important in her relationship with Emma, knowing how self-conscious she tended to be.

Tonight, though, was different. The floorboard gave its usual squeak and Alyssa kept walking for half a second before she heard the faint sound of metal clattering against a hard surface. She paused for another half-second before swiftly turning to the bathroom door that she finally noticed was shut. But not before she caught a glimpse of something playing on the TV, a bottle of beer lying empty and capless on the cushion of the couch. There would've been more that she noticed if she hadn't immediately reacted to the lone bottle. It was odd. She and Emma didn't usually drink, the alcoholic beverages were only kept around for the Broadway Gang, who insisted any good house had to have booze. Panic spiking, she gave the door next to her a soft knock.

“Are you alright, babe?”

A choked breath from behind the door caused Alyssa to tense.

“Emma?” Alyssa breathed out, trying to not show her worry.

Met with no response, she tried again, still insisting Emma's privacy be respected. “Is everything okay in there?”

The metal scraped again, making Alyssa cringe this time around. Then a long silence. Finally, the weakest Alyssa had ever heard her, Emma mumbled, “Come in.”

Alyssa sighed a breath of relief and turned the doorknob, but all the relief from just a second earlier evaporated as she looked down at Emma, who looked as though she were about to vomit, shaking and haplessly strewn on the floor. Alyssa’s eyes widened and immediately, she sat down next to her.

“Oh, you look so out of it,” she mumbled, tucking a strand of Emma's hair behind her ear.

Emma opened her mouth to speak but didn't say anything. Instead, she closed her eyes and didn't open them up again, leaving Alyssa to just stare for a moment. "What happened?" she finally whispered.

"I--" Emma broke off with a hiccup. "I can't."

"You can't what?"

Emma fell silent, tears slipping from her eyes. Alyssa tried so hard to wipe them away and assure her it would be okay, but they just kept coming. Eventually, she was fully sobbing into Alyssa's chest, and Alyssa had no clue why. She did keep trying to apologize, however, so at least it was a confirmation that she was still aware Alyssa was there; a tie to a conversation that seemed long overdue, a reaction to something much bigger than just one stupid decision to get drunk after midnight. Alyssa had almost seen this coming for a while now, but she hadn't expected it to happen so soon. She knew Emma had been stressed lately, but this was the last thing she expected for 3 in the morning on a Tuesday. It was too late for this and Emma was in no place near being stable enough for this to get a solid explanation. It was the last thing she wanted to think about, but she slowly remembered that she and Emma had a class tomorrow. The most logical solution here seemed to be getting Emma back into bed.

"Would you rather talk about it later?"

She immediately nodded with a loud sniffle, mumbling a "Yeah," as if it needed further clarification.

"Okay. Can you stand up on your own?" Alyssa asked, prematurely offering a hand as Emma tried to get into a half-kneel but automatically stumbled, as she'd expected.

Cautiously, Emma took Alyssa's open hand and pulled herself up. Even that seemed to take effort, as she quickly clung closer to Alyssa's side, blinking a couple of times before being able to orient herself. Alyssa gazed at her worriedly, wanting so badly to know what had happened and fix it. She wanted nothing more than to fix her soulmate's every worry and problem, but she knew it would never be possible. Curse her logic. So she had to come up with something else she could do, watching as Emma stumbled down the hallway, still gripping her arm like it was a lifeboat. It was watching this scene play out that Alyssa made an internal vow: She would do anything to protect Emma from whatever was hurting her. It was only fair. After all, she had done so much to protect her from being outed back in high school, even insisting that they weren't seen together. She had seen Emma sacrifice so much for her, it only made sense that she do the same.

The pieces of whatever this was began to fall into place sooner than expected, however, as Alyssa turned around for a moment to turn off the light in the bathroom, and once she turned she spotted tiny splotches of blood that played out a striking contrast to the plain white tile that made up the floor. Shocked by this, she let the light linger on for longer than it had to, scanning the scene for some kind of explanation, her eyes quickly darted to the corner of the room, where there was another colony of red streaks and dots, although this one seemed to have a source. A sharp edge of something protruding Alyssa's vision. The tip already darkening into an off-brown.

It had to be a knife.

No. No way.

Before she could think any more about what this could mean, her hand slapped the light switch. It didn't stop her from seeing that image when the room instantly went black like it was burned into her permanently now. But even then she couldn't let Emma know she had seen it. Not now, anyway. She was so fragile. Instead, she tucked her girlfriend into bed and waited a couple of minutes before Emma blacked out from the depressants still in her system. Then she crept back into the bathroom and hesitated for a long while before turning the light back on. She sucked in a breath and silently prayed to whatever power was still watching over the human race that it would be gone. But it was still exactly how it had been left. A fit of anger washed over her and suddenly she was blind to the blood beginning to stain the floor and she instinctually went for the knife. She wanted to break it in half seeing just how much reddish-brown festered on it. She would've done it, too, but cheerleading could only give you so much strength, and even that was nothing against solid metal. Instead, she threw it the sink, hoping Emma wouldn't notice it's disappearance. She had never even seen the damned thing before, how long could Emma have had it for?

Still buzzing with anger, Alyssa returned to the bedroom. She lied down next to Emma with a quiet sigh, looking at how peaceful she seemed while asleep. Her mouth was slightly opened and she was curled into a small ball on the mattress. The baggy hoodie she always slept in still had the hood up, covering her messy blonde curls. Alyssa allowed herself to smile at Emma's serenity. It calmed her down within minutes. It seemed strange how she could be so hurt when awake, and so relaxed when asleep. But nevertheless, it was comforting seeing that Emma was okay, so Alyssa got under the blankets and gently pulled Emma toward her chest. It seemed to be a welcome change to the blonde, who nuzzled in even closer to Alyssa, filling the unconscious need to be held. That made it nearly impossible to not get washed over with a comforting sort of tired.

They were still intertwined when Emma woke up feeling disoriented. She didn't remember falling asleep. The last thing she remembered was when Alyssa came into the bathroom at some point in the night. Rubbing her eyes and reaching for her glasses, Emma quickly realized her head was pounding. Without dwelling too much more on the previous night, she got up to get an Ibuprofen or an Advil, effectively ignoring her dizzy spell. What she couldn't effectively ignore was a The Office rerun that still played on TV like she hadn't left the couch last night as she wandered down the hallway, She supposed she hadn't realized it was a marathon playing. Not entirely unlikely, given her state last night. So this made her stop dead in her tracks. She didn't even notice the creak in the floorboard. Not until Alyssa was standing in front of her.

“What are you doing up?”

“I, uh,” Emma gestured to the kitchen, leading Alyssa to automatically block the doorless entryway.

“You can let me handle things,” she stated. I'm not going anywhere today.”

“But--” Emma could barely get a word out before Alyssa cut her off.

“No buts,” she insisted. “I’m making sure you're okay, end of story.”

Emma stood there for a moment, unmoving. Finally, she uttered, "God, what did I do to deserve you?"

"You loved me," Alyssa said without hesitation. "You always did," she continued after a beat. "...And I hope you always will."

Emma was silent in response, somewhat shocked. 

"Fine," Alyssa finally kept going after leaving adjacent room for a reply. "You want more than that? I'll give it to you. Just tell me why you felt the need to ask me that," she said, her voice breaking in the middle of the final sentence.

"None of it could change that you've always been stronger than me. It doesn't change what happened last night. I'm such a coward, Lys. Always on the run from my feelings," Emma sputtered.

"What actually happened last night?" Alyssa inquired, watching Emma's face morph into a shocked and afraid expression.

"I didn't tell you?"

"No."

"Fuck," Emma replied. Alyssa saw her wince as she brought down her volume and mumbled, "Would've been so much easier to say while apparently blackout drunk," almost as if she had to let Alyssa hear it but didn't want to hear it herself, much less coming from her own mouth.

"What could be that bad, honey?" Alyssa asked, trying to comfort her obviously anxious girlfriend. "We've been through so much; practically got out of metaphorical Hell together."

Emma had to suppress a laugh at that. Sure, Edgewater was nasty to the both of them--Emma in particular, but somehow New York City turned out to be so much worse, crushing the dreams of her younger self. The city that never slept; it was the one reason she had actually lived this long. She knew that in Indiana the whole town would be grateful if she died, and she was perfectly content with the idea of only her grandmother visiting her grave that would probably end up at least 20 miles out of town so nobody in its gates would have to remember she was ever alive, but that was the ending everyone expected--and Emma always seemed to bring along what you didn't expect--even if it was solely out of spite. So she was determined to get out of Indiana, no matter what she had to do to keep herself from biting the bullet. She was supposed to be happy now. New York is the queer equivalent to a fairytale ending, and she knew that. But why wasn't she any happier? Had she simply been so focused on staying alive that she lost herself on the way? She'd made it here but not thought any further ahead, and she'd been fairly certain she would've given up before now. Had that been the thing that destroyed her ambition? She looked back to Alyssa, biting her bottom lip without noticing it until a moment or two had already passed. Maybe she had ruined the only thing she felt she had to live for before she could've even known she would wreck it. She had been stupid. She was just a kid, there was no way she could've known how badly it would fuck her over. No way she would've known how hard it would get to put the damn knife down when she wanted to, or how hard it would be to end the habit on her own. 

She couldn't stop on her own. At this point she couldn't even tell if she wanted to or not, it had been going on for so long. It was then that she realized she was out of control. Not when she had gotten plastered on a weeknight to force herself to forget how she wondered if Alyssa even loved her before _still_ giving in to the demon that was her head. Rather, what made her finally admit her problem to herself was seeing the definitive concern in Alyssa's eyes. There was no denying that. Maybe she was paranoid about losing her for much longer than she had to be. She knew Alyssa loved her, but if she loved her that much? Well, Emma had been backed into a corner here, and over half of that had to be her own doing, so she was about to find out.

"I've been cutting myself since I was 13," she blurted, half-scolding herself and half-holding back tears comprising the volume of her exclamation. But her attempt at holding back tears had quickly become a failure, her vision quickly blurring.

Alyssa didn't know what to say. She knew to expect something rather depressing, but this had hit it out of the ballpark entirely. Six years. They'd known each other for about that long and for over two-thirds of that time, Alyssa hadn't suspected a thing. Her mind was in shambles. She had never had to deal with something that heart-wrenching to her that she was forced to look at without the blindfold of childhood innocence. And as depressing as it was, her mind had filled in the gaps rather quickly. Honestly, it explained so much that she was shocked she had never thought of it before. She had never even seen Emma in a t-shirt without a flannel or other jacket covering her arms, except for a single occasion. Kaylee's post-graduation pool party. When everyone else was topless or as close to it as they were allowed to get to being topless, Emma had worn a t-shirt. And she'd looked rather self-conscious in it, constantly tugging at the sleeves. It also explained her aversion to changing in front of her, she realized as a memory flashed in her head.

_They were about to make the long drive into New York City. Emma had insisted she could drive them there in her battered up truck. It was a blazing August day, and Alyssa was standing on the porch under the minimal shade the house provided, still sweating even in a tank top. Finally, the truck pulled up and Emma climbed out. Alyssa had **laughed** at Emma's choice of outfit. _

_"Babe, you're gonna die from heatstroke in that."_

_Emma shrugged, not missing a beat of her facade. "Better to die knowing you'll be with me, Lys," she had said with a smirk._

"Oh."

Emma's eyes suddenly glowed with the tiniest hint of hope, something Alyssa hadn't seen in a while. Even when writing essays and doing assignments she knew she could've aced, Emma seemed rather disinterested in and frustrated with her work, despite half the assignments being for something Alyssa knew she was very interested in. Just a few months ago, she seemed rather thrilled to be going to college for a field subject she was so passionate about--education. And now, she was admitting to this. Still, Alyssa tried to focus on what she hoped was a bit of inspiration for Emma.

"But I don't want it to control me anymore," Emma decided as she said it. It was time to start a proper new beginning.

They didn't talk much for the rest of that day, as they were both still processing the events of the previous night and the new information that had come between them. How exactly they would go about progressing beyond this point and getting Emma through the challenge of getting clean after so long was a conversation best had on another day. Obviously, neither of them were particularly prioritizing class that day, so they just skipped whatever they were supposed to be doing. They just spent the time together in comfortable silence, a sentiment they were both content with.

It was hard at first, for sure. Emma had gotten a therapist, but there was only so much they could do within appointments and office hours, so she had to learn to get comfortable confiding in Alyssa even more than she usually did. It was a rocky adjustment for her, and It wasn't always easy. Some days were harder than others; there were even a couple of days where it seemed to be a better idea not to get up. Alyssa was always gentle on those days. It seemed to pass by in a flash. Things were ultimately getting better, despite the bad days. Emma found herself happier and more energized than ever before. She couldn't believe it.

She was about a year and a half clean on their wedding day, and it was a couple of months later when Alyssa brought up the idea of IVF.

“I'm not gonna carry that kid,” Emma had replied without hesitation. 

She scratched at her shoulder for a moment as she said it, which had quickly become a sign of her anxiety. In place of using a knife, her own nails were much less damaging, but it was an easy reminder of how her shoulders still made her feel self-conscious. She was hesitant about changing in front of Alyssa and still wouldn't wear a short-sleeved shirt in public, although wearing one when only Alyssa would see became more regular and a sign of progress. One Christmas, Alyssa even got her a tank top. Just wear it once, she had requested.

When Alyssa did get pregnant, it was an emotional roller coaster for both of them. On one hand, it seemed like a decent distraction, preparing for a baby. But it left Emma in a mental ruckus, uncertain of if she could be a good parent after what her parents did to her. It seemed like a frustrating step back when she had made it nearly 3 years before starting over again. It led to an equally frustrating spiral that lasted until the day Alyssa's water broke.

This time it was Alyssa waking Emma up at three in the morning, rolling over on the mattress, hardly able to speak because of the pain, but her motion seemed to wake Emma up anyway. Neither of them had been sleeping very well, although for different reasons. They had also not done much laundry, and when Emma launched into action, she didn't notice the change of clothes she had put on.

It was nearly noon by the time their son was born, and after 9 hours and no sleep, to begin with, Alyssa was only half awake to meet her little boy. It wasn't much after that she left him with Emma to get some much-needed shut-eye.

Emma remembered gazing at her wife's sleeping face from the hard, plastic hospital chair, marveling at how peaceful she was. She stayed like that for who knows how long, watching over her wife, newborn son in her arms. She was truly grateful she stayed alive for this moment.

“Welcome to the world, Robin. It can be so much better than it looks sometimes, and sometimes you get so, so, lucky.”

Alyssa woke up after a while, the first thing she saw was the small smile on her wife's face. “Hi, baby,” Emma greeted with a sweet murmur.

That was when Alyssa noticed it. The shirt Emma was wearing. She couldn't even put words together quickly enough before she started crying, thin trails of tears dripping down her face.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing...nothing's wrong. I’m just--it's all so perfect. You're perfect for me...and he's perfect for _us_ , and--And I’m so proud of you,”

Emma looked down for a moment with a blush before realizing what she meant. She was actually wearing a tank top. In public.

“Well, this little guy’s pretty special,” she said. “He made all that...crap worth fighting through. And so did you. You're pretty special too.”

“God, what did I do to deserve you?”

Thinking back on the past, Emma replied. “You loved me. Even when I was drunk in college cutting myself and sure I’d kill myself before graduation, you loved me.”

Alyssa sat up a little, leaning over and tracing a finger down one of the scars. “These look like tiger stripes,” she mused.

She hadn't really seen this many of her wife's scars at once. It was a simple observation powered by her painkillers. She internally wondered how long it had been since Emma had last worn something sleeveless. Contemplating what a new leaf it meant with a child in her arms, she decided to continue.

“And it fits. You're the bravest person I know.”

"Says the one who just gave birth," Emma deflected the compliment, but that backfired when Alyssa had a reply ready.

"I never had to fight against myself."

Emma smiled a little bigger. She'd love to never have been suicidal. She'd love to never have put a knife to her skin. But it made life look more beautiful every now and again. There was a sense of pride in every day she kept going despite it. All the painful parts of it were ones she silently swore she'd protect Robin from, but her appreciation for life would never find itself unchecked again.


End file.
